


Memoirs of a Warrior

by thearchangelofloki



Category: Original Work
Genre: POV Second Person, blood mention, cross posted on tumblr, historical setting, i don't know what else to tag this as lmao, slightly fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 02:08:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5439491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thearchangelofloki/pseuds/thearchangelofloki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The armor you wear tells the tale of your battle well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memoirs of a Warrior

You stare yourself down in the mirror, the glint of the armor you wear dulled by a heavy coating of mud and the blood of your enemies. The same can be said of your daggers, their handles affected by the pressure of your hands, while the slightly curved metal is nicked by the blades of those who struck against you. The adrenaline that kept you sustained during battle is wearing off. Your hands loosen from the death grip you had on your blades. You can hear the faint thud of the twin blades hitting the rug beneath your feet. It is only as you look past your own reflection to that of your bed that it hits you.

The battle is over.

Your hands begin to shake. The realization that the fight for your life is behind you hits you hard. You want to collapse but you refrain, staggering instead to sit on the edge of your bed. For a moment, you can do nothing but stare at your hands, palms seemingly dripping with the blood of those you have killed. You close your eyes, unable to bear looking at yourself, and raise a shaking hand to your right shoulder. Unclasping the buckles of your spaulder, you remove it and grasp it firmly with both hands. You open your eyes again, and look closer at the object. It has an intricate design; all winding lines and smooth, rounded edged. It has mostly avoided being damaged in the battle which surprises you, but the small chink in the piece catches your eye. You run your fingers over it gently, memories flashing back to where it came from.

 

_“Ready your blades, men!” You hear your commander shout, his voice muffled by the resounding echo of the 10,000 around you. “We must defend this outpost, for the King demands it! Fight well, men, fight strong! Don’t let our enemies have respite. If they do, they will cast their black magic upon us! Stand strong, men, stand tall. We will not be defeated on this day!”_

_An almost deafening roar surrounds you, but you find yourself unable to join your comrades in their excitement. You have faced this kind of enemy before and you know it will not be easy to defeat them. Many of the men that stand with you now will not survive. You pull out your twin blades, readying yourself for the oncoming battle._

_“Incoming arrows!” Your commander roars. You turn to the left and bow your head down, hoping to avoid the worst of the attack. A resounding ‘thunk’ hits the majority of the army’s shields, but one arrow manages to avoid them, hitting you in the spaulder. You stumble backwards slightly. You consider yourself lucky, but know there is a long battle ahead of you._

 

You place the spaulder beside you on the bed, rolling your right shoulder. Wincing slightly, you go to remove the vambraces from your forearms, noting the scratches and dents that you’re sure weren’t there before. The vambraces feel light in your hands, the metal sturdy, and you know that you have them to thank for the fact you still live.

 

_You make your way through the battlefield, striking out at the enemy force that threatens to overthrow your post. You know you will not allow that to happen. You will not allow your comrades to fall. For two days you have been fighting. Two days of killing, blood, little sleep and no food. You’re running on reserves, but you will not stop. Muscle memory dictates your movements now. Stab. Parry. Cut. Sweep. Block. Kill. Repeat. It keeps you alive, gets you one body closer to the end of this fight. Stab._

_Parry. Cut. Sweep. Block. Kill. A body falls to the ground and, for the first time, you catch a glimpse of the face under the hood that your enemy wear. You stop. She’s a slight thing, no older than 15 or 16, her face covered in dirt and grime and bruises. She looks small in death, innocent even, and you can’t help but feel guilty in a way you’ve never done before. You lower your blades momentarily, lost in this nameless child’s face; you almost don’t hear the incantation that has spelt the demise for so many already._

_Almost._

_You look up, raising your blades once more but it is too late. The spell has been cast. You raise your arms so the vambraces protect your chest and prepare yourself for the impact._

 

You reach down and tug off your greaves. They, like everything else you wear, are covered with blood and grime. You attempt to wipe some away with the sleeve of the undershirt you wear, but only succeed in smearing it, leaving your greaves covered in a sticky dark red mess. You place them on the hardwood floor beside your bed, wiggling your toes for the first time in days. In the sanctity of your private quarters, you allow yourself a small smile, to still find amusement and happiness in the small thing that you know you’ve taken away from so many others.

 

_The blast hits you hard, causing you to stumble back several feet, almost losing your balance. You reign yourself in, launching yourself at your new found target with energy you did not know you possessed. You stab. They block. Then they force your twin daggers away from your body, leaving you open for attack. You then quickly bring your daggers closer to your chest, protecting you torso, going on the defensive before your enemy can strike. Both sets of metal clash, you push hard, trying to force your opponent back, to make and opening for you to attack. Your enemy holds fast, pushing back with just as much vigor, causing a stand still between yourself and your enemy. You glance down. You notice an opportunity to turn the battle to your favour; if you fight dirty._

_You lift your foot and kick._

 

You reach your hands around your back, unclasping your final piece of armor, your chest plate. It falls into your lap with a soft thud. Picking it up and turning it over, you notice the still damp blood splattered over its front.

 

_Your enemy reacts just the way you anticipate they would, they stumble back, and, as they try to regain their balance with their arms, their torso opens up for attack. You lunge towards them with your daggers, not giving them a chance for respite or defense. You feel the sink into your opponent’s neck, the blood spurting from the now open wounds, coating your chest plate a rich red. You stand, tugging your twin daggers free of the bloody mess of your enemy’s neck, preparing yourself to fight again._

_Only there is no one left._

_You look around, seeing the 200 or so of your fellow comrades that have survived the fight finishing off their own enemies and coming to the same realization. They begin cheering. They know, on this day, they are victorious, and on this day, they are the lucky few that live to tell the tale. Of all the 10,000 that stood before them when this fight began, so few remain. This realization slowly comes across the remaining warriors’ faces, but for now, it need not matter._

_For now, they have won._

 

You turn your head to stare at the mirror once more. Your reflection stares back at you, free of armor, giving you a soft smile even though its eyes seem devoid of life or happiness. It makes you think of all that you, and so many others, have lost this day: friends, family, lovers. But you refuse to let their lost burden you. You try to believe that they are in a better place. It is enough to quell your thoughts. You look at your pillow, seemingly calling you to rest your head. You succumb, your body relaxing, pulling your mind into a dreamless sleep with the knowledge that you have won.

That you have survived.

**Author's Note:**

> ty for the read :D


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